


Now I'm Just Unaffected

by DemonSquipster



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Asexual Kevin Price, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Doesn't Realize, Connor Just Wants To Help, Connor Lives With Thomas, Innocent Thomas, Kevin Has Lost His Mind, Kevin Lives in Brooklyn, Kevin is Manipulative, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Uganda (Book of Mormon Musical)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: Kevin Price was fine until Uganda. He was fine, really, until he met Connor McKinley. His 'turn it off' motto was put into place by Kevin. But what neither Kevin nor Connor realize is that Kevin turned off more than he intended.





	Now I'm Just Unaffected

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Joe Iconis's Kevin, and Andrew Rannells's cover. 
> 
> I guess Kev didn't do such an awesome job.

Kevin wandered down the street, his shoes pounding on the sidewalk harshly. He slowed, his adrenaline wearing down. His breath was heavy, and he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he refused to answer. It was probably just Thomas calling, worried. He pulled it out to see if he was right. The contact said 'Pop-Tarts'. Yeah, he was. He shoved his smartphone back into his pocket. It'd been a few years since the Ugandan mission. Arnold stopped calling in, too busy with his new life back in Uganda with Nabulungi. Connor didn't call him as much anymore either. It was Connor's fault Kevin lived in Brooklyn now. He hated him. _Hated_ him. He didn't know it, but Connor's disappearance had affected him more than it should have.

\--------------------

Connor had tried reaching out to Kevin, but he just... couldn't. When he looked at the ex-Mormon, he didn't see the guy he knew anymore. They'd moved to Brooklyn together, but after months of the same routine, Connor had gotten tired of it all. At least in Uganda, he'd had more... change in his life. Kevin was growing weary and cynical, and it was affecting Connor in a negative way. He couldn't deal with his new attitude anymore. So he picked up his things, and after a fight with Kev that he regretted, he left. He went back to Utah, and moved in with Thomas. His friend had happily let him, despite the fact Connor wasn't a Mormon anymore either.

The red-haired man couldn't have stayed Mormon. With his time out of the closet, the Church never would have accepted it. But Thomas never could shun his friend, gay or not. Connor was grateful, but he worried about Kevin. It had been six months since he went back to Utah, but it hadn't felt that long. He knew Thomas had stayed in contact with Kevin, he'd heard his blond friend talking to his ex-boyfriend. Thomas was growing worried about Kevin, he'd told Connor. "Kev's not in a good shape, Con. I think we need to go visit him." But there was no 'we' in this situation. Connor left him, it was Connor's job to help him.

Thomas had gone off to the bathroom, and Connor grabbed his phone. He looked it over a moment. This is what he left his dying sister for. Connor knew Thomas hadn't known she was going to die, but... it pained him to think about, and he turned that sympathy off. He opened Thomas's phone, using his password; it was 842632, or Uganda. Of course, that was his mission location; it meant a great deal to him. He went to his contacts, and clicked on 'Elder Price'. He called, but Kev didn't pick up. Did Kevin know it was him? Or was Kevin too busy to answer who he thought was Thomas? He tried again, and started to lose hope right before Kevin answered. "Thomas, I'm busy. If you could call back later-" Connor's breath hitched in his throat, as the all-too familiar voice came over the phone. "Kev?" He didn't realize it at first. Since when did Kevin call Pop-Tarts by his real name? "Oh. _Connor._ "

The shorter man heard the sigh on the other end of the line. "Kev, I get that you're busy, but I'm worried about.. you..." His voice trailed off as Kevin sharply chuckled. There was no amusement in the chilling sound. "You're worried about me? I haven't gotten a single call from you in months, not even a text. Look, don't call me. I don't want to talk to you. If Thomas wants to call me, tell him to find another phone to call me on. Apparently, this one's been _infected_." The line went dead, as Kev hung up. The words were childish and snide, but they stung him more than he would let on. This is why he had wanted to keep his emotions locked away, bottled up in his head. So he wouldn't deal with such rejection.

"Elder McKinley, you can't just turn off your emotions." "Elder Price, I can and I will." "I mean, I understand Elder Pop-Tarts doing that, but not you, or Elder Church. It doesn't make sense." The conversation lingered in his head. Kevin's tone had been kinder, gentler then. Brooklyn had changed him. It was like he found no purpose, no meaning for life anymore. Connor looked over at the nearby kitchen counter. Two tickets to Brooklyn tomorrow morning. He grabbed one, and slipped it into the trash bin. He'd lie, and say it went missing. Then he could go to the airport, and head to Brooklyn by himself. He didn't need Thomas to help talk sense into Kevin. He would have to make sure Thomas didn't tell Kevin about the flight mishap, or that Connor was going by himself. He couldn't throw away Thomas's phone either, it meant too much to him. He'd regret it, and end up telling Thomas. Thomas wouldn't want to see Connor either. If anything was to happen between Kevin and himself, he'd have Thomas to turn to. He couldn't sacrifice that.

\--------------------

Kevin quickly turned his phone on silent, and shoved it back into his pocket. It wouldn't vibrate either, so he wouldn't know whether Connor contacted him again until he got home. He kept walking, noticing how dark it was. He noticed a woman up on Atlantic, and headed her way. He felt rage ripple through him in waves, and he needed to take it out on something- rather, _someone_. She turned around and looked at him fearfully. He still wore his work clothes; his nametag was in his pocket next to his phone. She started walking faster, before she started running. _Shouldn't have been wearing heels_ , he thought as he grabbed onto her hair a block away. She had taken one off, and thrown it at him. It had delayed him, but not enough. She had stumbled trying to take the second one off. That had been her fatal mistake. They were by a club, and he dragged her a couple of concrete squares away as if that would help. He wrapped his hands around her neck, as she let out a strangled cry. She couldn't have been much older than himself, he noted.

Her face grew an unnerving red, with tinges of blue from being underoxygenated. She was facing away from him, but he could tell she was dying. Her struggles slowed, as her hands stopped trying to pry his off, and instead they fell by her side. In a shock, he let go. She slumped over. He was sweating a little, but that was from the struggle. She wasn't moving, wasn't _breathing_. He knew now something was certainly wrong.

He wasn't feeling the emotions he was supposed to.

He looked around, searching for any witnesses. No one was there to see the boy who used to be a cheerful Mormon become a cold-hearted killer. He'd just _murdered_ her without a second of debate. Now he just... didn't care. He could care about this all later, if someone saw her here, with bruises on her neck that fit the shape of his hands... he'd be screwed. He picked her up, and started carrying her off in a hurry. He found an empty alleyway, and tossed her behind the dumpster. She had nice clothes, and was quite pretty, really. People would be sure to notice that she had gone missing. He picked the wrong victim. Accusations that sounded like Connor McKinley shot through his head. _'Why are you worrying about choosing the wrong victim? You just killed someone! Why aren't you feeling guilty, or sympathy for her family?! They're going to be grief-stricken at the idea of their daughter being dead!'_

But those weren't emotions going through him. He'd broken himself, and now everyone was sure to know. He knew what was going to happen. He was going to get arrested for her murder, because his fingerprints were on her neck, and on her hair, and on the pink and white scarf around her neck, and he'd be sent to jail, and he could imagine people he knew finding out. He could picture the headlines now. 'MORMON MAN COMES BACK FROM UGANDA, BECOMES MURDERER.' He realized he was walking away. He wiped the sweat off of his head, and noticed his breath was steadier than it should have been. _'Feel something, damn it!'_ He wondered if he would feel different if he had moved to Queens instead of Brooklyn. He decided not. He made it home into his dark apartment, and went into his bedroom. He wanted to be panicking, to be fearful, and worried, and _guilty_ , but he wasn't anything but calm.

He was sitting on his bed, which felt lonelier than ever. Kev wanted Connor here, he wanted to hear Connor's voice. But he couldn't confess what he did over the phone. He pulled his phone out again, and called Thomas's phone. "Elder Price!" Thomas's cheery voice came over the phone. "Pop-Tarts, hey! D-do you think you could put Con on?" Thomas laughed. "Of course!" He heard a muffled 'Elder McKinley, it's for you!' since Thomas probably had his hand over the phone. "Thank you," he replied charmingly. After a beat of silence, he heard Connor's voice. "Kev? I thought you didn't want to talk to me?" Kevin sighed. "Connor, when are you getting here?" Connor stammered a moment, before responding with 'why'. Kev was a little frustrated with his ex, who insisted they were just on a break. "I want to get back together. Me and you. I miss you." He clicked the end call button, and watched as it rang in his hand again, leaving Connor bewildered.

"And I need someone to be my next victim."

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure if it counted as a graphic depiction but it's better to be safe than sorry.


End file.
